#schooldays
Forgotten pens
take care of forever-growing lens.
Ink spills like a river on white desert,
from hurt to heart,
happy or fallen apart,
They walk on silence,
yet have the power to shake the inner world,
Lean and learn through guidance.
never laughing at mere numbers or letters.
Sharpest weapon
and the only medicine,
a rain forever unseen,
for broken hearts.
Which fall like feathers
on a flood of blood.
Yet it hides behind,
letting the page shine
Like borrowed glow from the sun,
All praise for the writing
that flows so fine.
but what about the pen?
The one always kind,
connecting through every drop of ink
tethered to the mind.
Unfortunately, they are left on the school desk
rolling on the unkind floor.
Empty pen, unwanted, nothing more to expect.
I pick them, wondering
how to give final respect.
May 1
May 1, 2026 at 2:57 PM UTC
एक काळ होता जेव्हा
मी वर्गात पहिला यायचो,
सगळ्यात A ग्रेड मिळवायचो तेव्हा,
आनंदाने पेढा खायचो
शिकवलेले कळायचे मला सगळं,
विषय सगळे आवडायचे
खेळ खेळायचो वेगवेगळे,
शिक्षक सर्व मुलांना घडवायचे
आज मी वर्गात पहिला येत नाही,
नाही खात मी पेढा
शिकवलेलं कळत नाही काही,
कमी गुणांनी घातलाय वेढा
विषय नाहीत आवडत मला,
कलेला नाही आहे वाव
शिक्षक डोकं खातात साला,
फक्त मार्कांनाच आहे भाव
पण येतील ते दिवस पुन्हा,
जेव्हा मीच पहिला येईन
खूप गुण मिळतील तेव्हा,
मी पुन्हा पेढा खाईन
चारही बाजूंनी असेल वाहवा माझी,
खूप मोठं असेल माझं नाव
कीर्ती पसरलेली असेल माझी अशी,
की असेल फक्त माझाच बडेजाव
Jul 11, 2025
Jul 11, 2025 at 12:29 AM UTC
Lunch breaks, school plays
Why you had me as the fool played?
I loved you, but I can't stay.
Jul 9, 2025
Jul 9, 2025 at 3:41 AM UTC
a quote of wisdom
makes it to school bulletin;
janitor reads it.
Dec 15, 2024
Dec 15, 2024 at 2:39 AM UTC
I sit perched
Not perched but perfectly placed
By the door in english classroom
In the english hallway
Four doors down from the end
The air here is warm
Though this morning it must have been below
Below the freezing point for water
And my engine
And from my perfectly placed seat
I can see
The yellow leaves
Warm against the approaching winters wind
Though it is only September
The classroom- full of life
But only in the sense that
A dozen kids sit taking a quiz
Worth nothing but a number in a book
The life makes it warm
Or is it the fans above
Man made just not by man
No, not man but a fan and a shadow of man
When the yellow leaves echo the cold
When the door closes
And the light
Fades with the warmth
Oct 28, 2024
Oct 28, 2024 at 11:55 PM UTC
It's been a long, long time
Since I went to school
Therefore, my memory of those days
Is hazier than a cloud of fog
However, whatever I do remember
I remember vividly, as though it were only yesterday
Such as, committing the biggest faux pas of my school years
When I was in the fourth standard
By wearing a t-shirt and jeans one fine day
While everyone else was dressed in uniform
Disturbing the whole class by talking about cricket
And thus getting a nice scolding from the principal
When I was in the fifth standard
Crying in front of the whole class
Later during the same year
Exam tension getting the better of me
Enacting the role of a princess in a cartoon show
While on the way home
During the seventh standard
Failing in quite a few subjects
At the beginning of the eighth standard
After switching from CBSE to ICSE
Being forced into a trekking adventure
Thanks to the annual cross-country races
Scoring an own goal as a goalkeeper
During the ninth standard
Failing in a record number of subjects
During the same year
Thanks to my obsession with cricket
And last but not the least
Making amends for my past failures
By clearing the tenth boards with flying colours
I can go on and on
But I think that's quite enough for today
Aug 23, 2022
Aug 23, 2022 at 2:07 AM UTC
I hadn't been there in ages, hadn't visited, I had no reason to
But then the Covid virus struck and Dublin where I was working was put into quarantine
I wasn't allowed to go up there anymore to work,
And I had no computer at home and no broadband/ WiFi at the time
So they sent me down to the Old Town
It was nice driving down the motorway, it was Autumn and the leaves they were all changing colour
The different shades of red, brown green and yellow
With the sun shining on the mountains and on the bay
It felt almost like I was going on my holidays,
The Old Town it had changed so much, there were all these new buildings,
Retail parks on the outskirts, hotels, new schools, civic buildings... coffee shops
It was lovely and clean and tidy
Like those living there were really proud of it,
The old town I'd known it was there also, in the background, a bit dusty now
There was the big old gothic church my Dad used take us to, to Mass some Sundays
There was the Port and the big ships along the Quay
There was the secondary school I was meant to go to... had we stayed...it looked old, a bit dilapidated now
I wondered was it still being used as a school,
In the Main Street there were still old names of shops that I recognized
The shoe shop where my Mom used buy us shoes
The chemist where my brother got his glasses... the Bakery
The cinema where we seen our first movie "The Magnificent Seven", it was all done up now... all different...
In the office things were... well...weird! ghostly!
A big modern office and some days I was the only one there, just me all on my own
Was like something out of a Sci-fi movie
Other days maybe two or three might come in to join me
All the others of course, they were all working from home,
Often I'd find my mind just filling with old memories and nostalgia...
I could hear the old ghosts calling, calling me to go back
I knew... I knew I had to go back there
Back to where it had all begun for me
The little seaside village where I was born.
So going home I took the coastal road not the motorway
Just the sight of the headland and the blue mountains sloping down to the sea
With the lighthouse there at the end
Just seeing them again gave me an old feeling of my father, my Dad
And then the village itself, the seafront... all the colourfully painted shops,
Sweet shops & novelty shops, the amusement arcade, pubs and hotels and B&B's (Bed and Breakfasts)
After being away for nearly fifty years, it still looked...it still looked pretty much the same, was hard to believe
I stopped my car and went into a little supermarket shop to get a sandwich for the next day
As I looked around, I seen these two mature ladies there, they were around my own age
I thought to myself 'I might have gone to school with you once many years ago, one of you might even have been my wife had we stayed here and not moved away
I might have lived a more normal, a different life'
But then I thought 'Life is never that simple, is it'.
Outside I decided to go for a walk, to look around and reminisce.
There was the path, the pavement I used go to school on with my brothers
It was like returning to the scene of a crime
How I used to dread going to school sometimes
There was a teacher, a lady teacher that used scare me a lot, she terrified me so
I remember I got sick in class on several occasions
She put me outside once sitting on an upturned bin
I can still remember sitting there on that bin in the sun, feeling so lost and that I was a really bad boy, wishing I was home
I remember I used to get hives, itches on my skin
My Mom used keep me at home
She was afraid, she thought I'd give them to the other kids
I missed the addition and subtraction tables at school because of this
To this day I still don't know what 7 + 5 is, instead I bring it to 10, I know 5 is 3 + 2, so I say 7 + 3 is 10 and 2 is 12
And I know all the doubles, 7 + 6 is 6 + 6 is 12 and 1 is 13, funny that
How I used to dread going to school
Until that was... until one day I did well at something and I received some praise
Then things seemed to change after that, I wasn't as bothered anymore, I think then I realized I was doing better than some of the others in my class and that seemed to make a difference
I remembered sitting beside pretty little girls who used have lovely pink pencil cases with lots of fancy colourful things
Whereas me I barely had a pencil, a rubber (eraser) and a ruler
They were strange lovely creatures, the Girls with their lovely long hair and their cute little faces...
I remembered walking home on my own, with my little schoolbag on my back with all my books in it
It was such a beautiful place, the view with the beach and the sea and the faraway blue mountains
And yet, I used to worry about so many things
It's like even then it was all about...all about survival...
There was the big Chapel on the hill
Once before the Summer holidays they were looking for altar boys and someone put my name forward
Then on the first morning back to school after the Summer holidays
The teacher said you better get down to the church right away, like fast!! you're on the altar this morning !!!
I was terrified, I didn't know what I had to do, no one told me anything
So there I was on my own kneeling on this cold hard marble altar and it was hurting my knees something terrible
And the priest he's talking about God and the Devil and Evil or Hell or whatever
And all these people, the whole congregation their all staring up at us
And I'm petrified, and I started to get faint and nauseas
The priest had to stop the Mass
I can't remember if I got sick or passed out
I was so embarrassed and thought afterwards I was such a terrible bad person, I knew it'd be all around the school the story.
I walked on...our house was gone, knocked down, where there used to be three houses together attached, now there was only the end house
Our house used to be the middle house
It didn't look right now, the symmetry looked all wrong
It was like there was two missing teeth
Why did they have to knock it down ? I wondered. It saddened me a bit...
At another house I stopped, this used to have a shop, a small shop, the shop was no longer there
This was my Best Friend's house, all the days we used to play football together in the back garden
Kicking the ball to each other
With our jumpers/ sweaters as goalposts
The first to score ten would win the game
I...I usually won
I always found you easy to read, it's like you only ran in straight lines,
I think you were a bit in awe of me for some reason
Maybe you wouldn't have been my friend if you'd beaten me
How did we become friends anyway, I wondered
I suppose coming home from school
We lived on the same road and were in the same class, we'd have met each other
I had two older brothers whereas you were the oldest
So our families would have had a different dynamic
I remember you had a delightfully silly younger brother
I remember your Mom, she was very pretty, she was a lot younger than my Mom
You used bring me in and give me a meal sometimes, we'd all sit and watch TV
There was a different feeling when I was in your house...a different atmosphere
But when your Dad would come home, he was a bit scary
And I knew it was then time for me to go home
You'd wonder afterwards what the lovely Mom saw in the scary Dad, adults they were a bit peculiar.
We were inseparable in those days, many mornings you'd hear the knock on the door
And the familiar greeting
"Hello Mrs B---, Is G---- in, is he coming out to play?"
We were always playing soccer up the garden
Or down on the beach, going out for miles to meet the tide, catching ***** looking under stones to see what we might find
I remember we were very entrepreneurial
In the Summer we used collect returnable glass mineral bottles, Orange and Lemonade and Coca Cola
And we'd bring them back to the shop and get money back for them
And then we'd have a royal feast, we'd buy bottles of Orange and bags of crisps and ice cream pops and chocolate bars,
Remember all the different Ice pops there used to be, Choc Ices and Brunches and Orange splits, 99's... Ice cream cones
Chocolate bars, Smarties and Malteasers, Milky Bars and Milky Ways, Dairy Milk chocolate bars, fruit gums and Love hearts with little love messages written on them
We used hang around the amusement arcade, play the slot machines, maybe help some old lady collect her winnings, she might give us a tip
There was the bumper cars and the swingboats and music playing all the time on the jukeboxes
It was the seventies (the 70's) and glam rock was all the rage
Marc Bolan and T-Rex, and Slade and The Sweet and a million others
So many great songs, we couldn't wait to grow up and become one of those amazing creatures we saw on the telly
I'd never lived since as intensely as I did back then,
We'd stay out till late
We were like young hustlers going around,
It seemed the days they were never long enough, all the things we got up to,
We'd Caddy in the local golf course
And retrieve lost ***** from the ditches...
Heh! Remember... remember that time... the Brennan sisters, we were up one day near the school
There was building work going on
And there was this big high mound of clay
So we climbed to the top to take in the view
And then the two Brennan sisters came over
They lived nearby
They were in our class at school, we knew them only to see
They were smiling and laughing and giggling
They beckoned for us to come and follow them
We went wondering what was going on here
They led us back to their house, I think their parents must have been out
One of them came up to us and smiled
And then she pulled down her pants and showed it to us in all its wonderful glorious splendour
It was amazing... incredible... such a sight
Her beautiful...her splendid... her lovely... bare Bottom!
I remember thinking it was like a lovely ripe pear
One of Life's great mysteries had just been unveiled
And her there with this huge impish grin,
When we were going home we promised each other we'd not tell anyone, our parents, not even the priest in confession
About that great vision we'd just witnessed
It was the height of naughtiness
Yea! Those were the days...
I wondered, 'Whatever became of you Old Friend ?
I looked you up online but couldn't find your name anywhere, couldn't find anything about you
Were you even still alive ?
50 years was a long time, I'd barely made it this far myself, and I had a lot of scars to show for it
I thought rather amusingly that I should knock on your door
Maybe you were still living there,
But what was I hoping to find ? I wondered...
"Whose at the door ?", a woman's Voice inside might say,
"Just... just some crazy guy talking about 50 years ago" her dutiful husband would reply
That's probably how it would go
I felt like I was Rip Van Winkle awakening after being asleep for 100 years or in my case 50 years
What did I hope to find
What did I hope to see, an old man now just like myself
And I bet you'd tell me your opinions on the government and the economy
And how the village had changed over the years and how other old schoolmates of ours had got on in life
But No! that's not what I wanted to hear or see
I wanted to see you there again just like you were as a little kid
Your lovely youthful face smiling back at me
And you'd say, "I'll get the ball and we'll have a game, the first to ten wins"
This was what I was looking for, this was what I wanted to hear.
We were very close, were going to grow up together, go to the same schools...college
We'd always be friends
We'd meet all the trials of life together....
I hope Life worked out well for you, my friend
In a way...in a way I almost didn't want to know
If I learned you did well in Life I'd probably only get jealous
I'd start to think I was better than you and that I should have had those things you had
Life, this world it makes enemies of us all... eventually
It divides, is all about competing and comparing... and beating (I suppose).
I still remember that last night before I left forever
We were down on the beach, it was twilight, the tide was coming in... the waves slowly advancing
Just like in life I had no power to stop it, to change things,
I had no say, I didn't want to go and leave you Old Friend
No! I didn't want to go....
Thank you...thank you for being my friend, for being there
For all the time you gave me, I hope I didn't hurt you in any way.
I have a photograph, one solitary old black and white photo of the two of us
We're sitting on a barrel in our back garden on either side of my Dad whose in the middle
You look a bit uncertain, unsure of yourself, probably lost in the dynamic of my family,
I look at you and I think
"Whatever happened to you.... Beautiful Friend, whatever became of you"
And then I look at myself as well, and I think, I whisper
"Whatever became of me as well".
Jul 11, 2022
Jul 11, 2022 at 11:29 AM UTC
You have boxes of cereals
I have boxes of crime,
Don't worry about it
I am not like that serial killer vine.
My boxes are not illegal
But regarded as trek,
I designate them as crime
Because it's done on beck.
The first crime is universal
Which is eating during a class,
And if you get caught
You will get a detention to pass.
Second needs a little courage
Which is bunking the lab,
And you will roam the whole school with friends
Without hiring a cab.
This crime is something planned
Distracting teacher from her study point,
Asking tales about their life struggle
Because we got bored from her english coined.
This crime is nothing less than others
Which is cheating during a test,
Not everyone will accept that
Because not everytime it did help them to score their best.
If you start to count them all
It will take your whole life to wind,
You created memories that are crime
Which you won't ever mind!
May 14, 2020
May 14, 2020 at 11:13 PM UTC
got to meet a pedagogue
who might let out of his
wretched gob
some mockeries
something like this
"perhaps, he has a paralysis"
when in the course of classwork
you're not taking
notes of what's on the blackboard
that snot's painting
got to meet an insolent boy which
might start an altercation
since that ***** is annoyed with
3 out of 5 you'd rated
his "top significant" work with
despite the case that
it's simply according
to the teacher's direction
May 6, 2020
May 6, 2020 at 11:29 AM UTC
I remember walking back from school
the tenner for the bus ride in my pocket
There would be a row over why I had taken so long
But I'd gulp the sondesh down, and it'd be forgotten
The grey haired proprietor of the sweetmeat store
wore a perennial smile on his face
And sometimes I wondered if he had ever been sad
How could he with those sweets on his silver trays?
I learned to grasp the concept of gravity
when a piece of sweetmeat went down my throat
And then a lesson on quick mathematics
when the shopkeeper stretched his palm for what I owed
But sadly the chemistry book had no formula for me
to turn sugar and milk to that special treat
The report card was skewed, and the scolding that ensued
Was only remediated by my favourite sweet
Jul 23, 2019
Jul 23, 2019 at 1:56 PM UTC
Two lads, I'd say, of thirteen, just passed;
One in barefoot with a backpack;
One in shorts, shoes and black socks,
Pulled up over bloated calves.
One athletic, lean and gearing;
One more leaning towards academia.
Both waiting to enter high school.
They met in JK.
They slept on their towels, in their tents,
At each other's house on weekends.
They served together, lived as one;
Their mothers loved them as sons.
That's how close they'd become.
Their worlds will change,
Once this season's done.
One will be the talk of his circle,
The other, the talk of his;
But there's a Venn where the rings entwined
Before they turned thirteen.
Their hybrid youth,
Their cloned friendship,
Memories already determined.
Around fires and bells,
Or a covered porch on a rain - washed day;
They'll dig up some old moments
Of the other when they were young.
Buried treasures for days of leisure,
Apart, yet part of their sum.
Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 11:21 AM UTC
We were together for years
We sat beside each other for months
We talked for days
We shared the lunches
We fought at times
But that didn't lasted for long
Everything was normal between us
Until someone announced the day of farewell
I felt a panic in heart
But didn't knew for what
I do know that the situation must have been same at the other end
But we did figured it out
It was the fear of separation
The farewell could have been same as it was for other
But Condition wasn't similar between we two
Because we knew the fact
That there will be many years
Between this day and the day when we will meet next
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 9:27 AM UTC
With trembling legs i boarded the bus,
Looking at the monsters around me...
Taking the corner seat,
Lost myself in the cover of book....
I m gonna write in years,
Legs denied the initial step....
But the gentle hand holds my hand,
Taking my fear away...
To Mary-Go-Round & See-Saw,
Charm started flooding my face...
N so i made the cover of my book,
Day by day shivering legs got stronger..
Monsters now seems to be human,
N corner seat faded away...
As tiny-tot reforms to be kid,
Every new day was an adventure....
To write down a new chapter.
Jumping to school from kindergarten,
Slowly playgrounds enlarged..
From See-saw to indoors,
Mary-go- round to outdoors....
Alphabets become theories...
Lovely rhymes turned out,
To scientific logic ...
Brain has increased,
Memory is still in childhood..
N this took me to new phase,
A new chapter of my book.
Learning in this phase....
Numeral hands help me to grow,
Guide my through my path...
Taught me to live,
Embracing the happiness...
I made memories with them,
Print them in My heart...
Making another superb chapter.
Visualising the decline..
In length of smooth road,
Adventure seems to...
Be scattered n different,
But still with hope to be together...
I give the full stop,
To be best gift ever.."My School Days".
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 5:10 PM UTC
We were marched into the room,
Told to disrobe, to leave our belongings behind.
The room was locked.
Hard to concentrate;
Harder to look straight
In our anxious states.
We lined up, entered en masse,
Into the showers.
We were Southsiders;
Italians, Poles, Irish and mixed,
Nervous whispers, shielding tensions,
Standing by the poolside.
The whistle blew,
And thirty boys dove
In the comfort of the pool.
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 10:52 AM UTC
Outside is calm,
The shrieks have ceased;
The sounds of laughter
Left our streets.
The chalk lines faded
Like summer tans,
The derelict castles
Lie in the sand.
The swings sit still,
The splash downs vacant,
The parents have gladly abdicated,
Relinquished reins and riding crops,
The mowers, rakes and garden tools;
For the kids are finally back at school.
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 10:19 AM UTC
for Pradip Chattopadhyay
What is the magic that pulls us ever back
To gather in a circle of remembering
And sharing in the glow of friendship
That time and miles can’t dim.
Why do we make our plans and get the things
We need to guarantee that we will get here
Out of the hubub of still busy lives
And the lethargy of quiet ones.
What is the reward for walking native streets
And looking at the things that made us “us”,
When most of us have sunk our sturdy roots
In places very different from here.
Who have we beome as life and time
Have lifted us and pulled us down-
A few to never rise again-
But most to stand astride the life we made
And tell the world and one another
That the soil of Longview nourished us
And helped us grow to be the trees
That make the forest beautiful.
That Cowlitz County lumber cut straight and true
And built a sturdy framework
That the young can climb to find their way
To make the world a better place.
We stood up proud and did our job
Now we can enjoy what we created
And share it once again with those
Who were with us at the starting of our journey.
ljm
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 1:18 PM UTC
I watched a rarity across the street,
Walking like an endangered species
On his way to school, alone.
Don't his parents realize,
As ours did,
That single men live on his way,
Looking out windows
With coffee and cigarette;
Married couples are household occupied,
Labourers, professionals and unemployed
Are behind closed, locked doors,
Busily preparing for another day.
Cars drive by, one slows behind him,
To ensure her carrier pigeon fledges along.
The lad in question pays no attention,
Playing catch-up with his shadow.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 9:48 AM UTC
Only in my mind does she meet me as the sun kisses the sky.
In reality I'm just the guy she passes by. Her head lost in the clouds.
Paper separated from pen, public school education.
Only in my mind do we attend each others graduation,
Maintain the steady marriage of attendance. The time taken to grade each other's paper.
Study sessions that involve single spaced outlines. Algebraic equations.
An organic remedy that highlights not just inspiration but more sessions soon to follow.
In reality the classroom is actually empty and I am somewhere daydreaming.
Head lost in the clouds
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 3:05 PM UTC
*Where will I sit?
Will I make friends?
Do I look okay
On my first day?
Do you think
I'll do alright?
Is it like learning
To ride my bike?*
*Congrats, my child,
You're doing fine,
You've just learned
The first day's rules.
The fears, anxieties
And self-doubts,
Are life's hard lessons
We could do without.
There's no teacher
Or book of stories
To allay your ever-present worries.
The stress now filling up your head,
Is with you til the very end.*
But I want to stay home!
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 9:04 AM UTC
Boots were all we had in winter,
Wellingtons made of a slice of rubber;
Turned down to show initials,
That bled upon the snow.
Between skin and cold,
Coarse wollen socks,
Sometimes they matched,
They'd criss and cross.
In from the boys' yard,
The slide and frost,
The boots were heaped
In backroom closets.
The sting of chilblains
On sock-soaked feet,
The line of footprints
Led to our seats.
We had one pair at school,
No other cover
Sliding across the oaken floors.
Drying on the radiators,
Our pungent odor,
A synaptic recall,
The unschooled smell
Of winter schoolyards.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 5:01 PM UTC
*When we kids I remember her.
She tripped me up in the
playground grazing both my knees.
She broke into my locker at school
and stole all my Candy stash.
She copied my math homework
getting me an F.
Then she told my first girlfriend
I was secretly Gay.
I married her last year
If that’s all she wanted
Why didn’t she
Just say so.*
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC
School days in winter
Were such fun
Without a care,
When we were young.
At recess we'd slide
On ice,
Build our forts,
Duck and fight.
The firemen
Beneath starlight,
Would flood our schoolyard,
Whet appetites
For hockey games
Between senior classes;
We'd skate and shoot,
Fall on our *****
Such joy and fun,
And no one lost.
The bell would sound,
Then we'd toss
Our wet socks
On school room
Rads.
His and hers
Like banners waving,
Drying, hissing,
Choking, aging.
Impatiently we'd sit and wait,
Do our math
And conjugate;
The clock's hands,
Frozen,
Watched from
The wall,
At last the lunchtime
Bell would ring,
And we'd get bundled
Once again.
Before heading home
We're enticed
To slide once more
On hard, grey ice.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC